


I Got Wings To Waste The Hours

by 108_Stars



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Explaining gender to a 10 year old! Ft. cis Felix, Gen, Ingrid vs the Gender Binary, Trans Glenn Fraldarius, Trans Male Character, Trans Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25514959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/108_Stars/pseuds/108_Stars
Summary: Glenn becomes a Falcon Knight. Not everyone is happy about this, though Felix isn't exactly sure why.Originally written for Trans Week.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	I Got Wings To Waste The Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, writing about a character that wasn't even in the game. Classic.  
> This was originally for Day Two of Trans Week, for the prompt Class Change. True to form I'm rather late in posting but I am thinking about trans content every day of the year so it's all good.
> 
> Please Note: While there are no incidents of outright transphobia, there is some background judgmental behaviour re: Glenn and his choice of class.  
> Glenn is 15 in this fic, Felix and co are 9/10  
> Title is from Carry You by KAYE

The Cathedral is packed. The pews are full of Nobles - people Glenn knows well, some he doesn’t; behind them stand merchants, commonfolk, anyone who wants to catch a glimpse of the King. He can’t blame them, King Lambert is a charismatic figure, commanding the attention of all those present even before he begins his speech. Glenn sits in the front row, away from Felix and his father, from the Galateas and Gautiers who sit next to them, with his fellow knights.  
  
Well, knights-to-be.

That is why they’re here after all, on a colder than expected Spring day. One cannot simply _become_ a member of the Royal Guard in Faerghus, there are rites and rituals to be upheld, ceremonies to be performed.  
  
_Ceremonies that take hours._ _  
__  
_ Glenn resists the temptation to slouch in his seat as King Lambert continues his speech. It would be impressive if he were hearing it for the first time but years of growing up in close proximity to the Royal family, of being lectured by his father about duty and chivalry have made such words almost lose their meaning. The concepts never could; Glenn wouldn’t be here pledging his life to his country if he didn’t believe in them but-  
  
“I still can’t believe they let him do that.”  
  
Some younger noble heirs whisper to each other a few rows back. Glenn tries to block them out and focus on the speech.  
  
“He’s a Fraldarius, isn’t he? I doubt anyone else could get away with being so...eccentric.”  
  
“”Mm, him _and_ the Duke.”  
  
_Ah, this again._ He tries to control his temper, he can’t start a scrap in the middle of the Cathedral after all, not with this many people watching.  
  
There are many who think his appointment as a Falcon Knight to be a joke, an embarrassment to the Kingdom. He’d been expected to become a Swordmaster, or to follow in his father’s footsteps as a Holy Knight but that had never been what he’d wanted; he’d always found flying to be freeing and when he’d realised how useful he could be in battle he’d wanted nothing else.  
  
“We shall now begin the ceremony.”  
  
A Bishop reads the names, nobody Glenn recognises. His voice matches his expression, stern and clipped, a slightly exasperated look on his face, one green eyebrow raised. They’re in alphabetical order and Glenn thanks the Goddess for a little time to get a hold of himself. There’s a nervous energy to him and he takes a moment to consider how much trouble he’d be in for running out to the nearest training grounds before taking a deep breath and trying to relax. He flattens the hem of his tunic and checks his boots are correctly laced for the hundredth time.

\---

  
  
The rest of the ceremony is a blur. His father told him he’d done well, and Ingrid had given him a big smile -- there’s no reason to think otherwise. There’s a slight uneasiness still, as if the Bishop will come to find him at this feast and tell him there’s been a mistake, that he must reconsider his decision. His mind can’t linger on it though, the Banquet Hall is full of life, the celebrations set to last long into the evening.  
  
Glenn spends some time with the other new knights. He doesn’t know all of them well, many are from far off territories, some minor nobles, a few commoners as well. He doubts he’ll spend too much time with most of them, the mounted troops and foot soldiers tend to form their own groups, even within the Royal Guard. There are a few pegasus knights, even one Ingrid knows from Galatea, but they’re all women. They’re pleasant enough, and not afraid to be a little rowdy, but there’s always the feeling of being the other, of not quite being the same. He can laugh along with them, challenge them to an arm wrestling match, but there will always be an invisible wall between them. That’s just how it is. It's not like he made it that way.  
  
He spots Dimitri a couple of tables down. The young prince seems restless, though Glenn isn’t sure anyone else has noticed; they’re all too busy cooing over him, calling him adorable. _Such is the life of royalty_ , he thinks _._ Sylvain is similarly busy, charming everyone in sight. Glenn isn’t quite sure why the Gautiers are here, their eldest son gone from the house -- ‘A pity’, his father had called it -- but Sylvain seems to be making the most of his time in the capital. Glenn struggles for a moment to remember how old Sylvain is, but it doesn’t matter. The answer is still too young. Glenn doubts he’d want his help though, he never seems to nowadays.  
  
He’s considering going to sit with his father for a while, though that would mean sitting at the high table with the King. The other guardsmen already think he’s somehow been given preferential treatment, best not make it worse, best not give them another thing to whisper as he walks by.  
  
He can’t worry for long though. A sharp tug at his cloak has him looking down.  
  
“Felix? Why aren’t you sitting with dad?”  
  
His tone is a little dismissive, that is until he sees the tears starting to form at the corners of the younger Fraldarius’ eyes. Felix seems to be cringing at the noise of the hall, eyes darting around.  
  
“Do you want to go outside?”  
  
_Nod._  
  
“Let me tell dad, okay?”  
  
_Nod._  
  
Felix clings onto his cloak still as they walk. If he were younger, Glenn would pick him up, but he imagines Felix wouldn’t appreciate that now; he’s still his baby brother just…less of a baby.  
  
His father is speaking to Count Galatea as he approaches, their invite to the high table thanks to the ever looming engagement between Glenn and Ingrid. Ingrid does look up as he approaches, her starry gaze focused on something else than her plate full of food, just for a moment.  
  
“I’m going outside for a bit with Felix.”  
  
No question, just a statement of fact. Count Galatea raises an eyebrow at his tone. His father simply smiles.  
  
“Very well. Felix, listen to Glenn. No wandering off by yourself, alright?”  
  
Glenn snorts at the idea of the boy currently clinging to his cape choosing to wander off anywhere. He turns to leave, hears someone telling his father about _how good he is, what a sweet older brother he is_ before taking the first door out of the hall.  
  
It’s only as they get outside that he realises he forgot to say goodbye to Ingrid.  
  


\---  
  


Felix stays silent for a while as they walk, content to follow Glenn through the Palace grounds. Glenn is quiet too, the silence welcomed after a day filled with conversation, most of it inane. He considers taking them to the training grounds, Felix is still young but becoming quite proficient with a sword. There are whispers of him being the one to follow in his father’s footsteps. Glenn won’t be surprised if he starts being tutored in Faith magic before his next birthday, though he hopes Felix still gets to make his own choice. He did after all, though he knows things are different for heirs and crestholders; he has a level of freedom his brother never will, though he’s trapped in a different way.  
  
“Where are you taking us?”  
  
Felix is looking up at him, eyes wide.  
  
“I wasn’t r- the stables.”  
  
They’re close enough to them, and they’ll be quiet at this time of night. Felix doesn’t need to know he’d been wandering lost in thought. Besides, his brother’s face lights up at the mention of their destination.  
  
“Can I see Fáelán?”  
  
“Sure, I’m not about to let you into someone else’s stable.”

\---

Fáelán is kept towards the back of the stables, as are all the pegasi. The superstitions about their hatred of men might be bullshit, but tradition stands. Felix runs off as soon as they enter, pausing briefly halfway towards the stall to turn back and check that Glenn is following.  
  
“You don’t need to run, she’s not going anywhere.”  
  
“I know, I just-”  
  
Felix looks at his boots, cheeks going red.  
  
“Urgh- Fe, I’m sorry. You’re allowed to be excited.”

He ruffles Felix's hair before moving to the stall, unlocking the door.  
  
Fáelán looks restless. She’s pacing, as much as she can anyway. Glenn checks her over carefully, ensuring there’s not so much as a tangle in her mane. Her black coat shines, even in the dim light of the Stables. He glances across to see Felix looking up at her in awe. It must still be strange for him; Glenn had mostly been away from home the past year, training first in Galatea and later Fhirdiad. Felix had hardly seen him at all.

“She won’t bite.”  
  
Felix stays still, caution overriding any excitement he may have. An idea strikes Glenn, one his father might not be too happy about. _What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him._ _  
_  
“Would you like to go flying? Fáelán looks like she wants to.”  
  
Felix looks at him for a moment with the same expression he’d given his pegasi.  
  
“We can do that?”  
  
“Sure, yeah. Just don’t tell dad, okay?”  
  
Felix nods furiously.  
  
It doesn’t take him long to get things sorted, he’s trained to do this in no time for battle. He helps Felix up before climbing on behind him and rides out into the chilly Fhirdiad evening.  
  
“Hold on tight.”  
  
Felix scarcely has time to reply before they’re ascending. Glenn can feel him tense up, can only imagine his eyes are shut tight.  
  
“You have to relax. If you get scared, Fáelán will be able to tell. Don’t look down at first, okay?”  
  
It takes a moment or two, but Glenn finally feels Felix relax a bit. He mumbles something Glenn can’t quite hear.  
  
“What? You have to speak up, Fe.”  
  
“I _said_ it looks pretty!”  
  
He’s right, it does. Glenn hasn’t had much chance to fly at night aside from on training missions but seeing Fhirdiad like this is breathtaking. The city stretches on into the distance, lanterns illuminating the streets. There are a few crowds here and there, outside the taverns, at the city gates-  
  
“There’s the road back home.”  
  
Felix points beyond the city gates. The road is dark, no travellers at this late hour which makes the temptation to travel along it, if only for a short while, even greater. Glenn doesn’t usually miss Fraldarius territory, doesn’t _let himself_ miss it. His father and brother visit often; there’s no reason for him to feel sad about a dusty old house, an abandoned room he’ll never properly return to, a place Felix will always know as ‘home’ but that Glenn will know simply as the place he grew up in. Fhirdiad is home, Galatea will one day be home.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
He’s been circling the city, lost in thought.  
  
“Back to the stables, we’ve been gone long enough. Can’t have people thinking something bad’s happened to you!”

\---

There’s a small group in the stables as they land. Soldiers, though none Glenn knows well. He’d kept his distance from them. _He’d kept his distance from most people._ A few have bottles of wine in their hands, one seems to have vodka and they call out to him as he helps Felix down from the saddle.  
  
“Fraldarius! We were going to have our own little celebration, care to join?”  
  
Felix holds onto the edge of his cloak again. Glenn shakes him off so he can look after Fáelán.  
  
“Sorry, I have to get back inside. You know how it is.”  
  
He’s surprised they even asked given his refusal to socialise during the rest of the year. Perhaps they’re being kind. Perhaps they want to be close to such a powerful family. Glenn can’t give a shit.  
  
“Aye, I do.”  
  
A stocky man saunters forward. Some Western lord’s third son.  
  
“You think you’re above us, don’t you? Well, your last name might mean you can do whatever you want, but it won’t win you any friends.”  
  
It takes everything in Glenn not to punch the man right then and there. He can’t, not in front of Felix. More importantly, he can’t prove them right. He does follow the rules, more than most of this group seem to.  
  
“Come on Fe, let’s go.”  
  
He turns to leave, ignores the murmurs around him. Felix follows right b-  
  
_Wait._ _  
__  
_ There’s a yelp of pain from behind him. Glenn wheels around to see the stocky soldier hopping around while grabbing his foot, an irate Felix staring him down.  
  
_Saints help him._ _  
__  
_ “Cichol’s Balls! You little-”  
  
Glenn doesn’t wait to hear anything more. He grabs Felix by the arm, perhaps a little too roughly, and drags him out of the stables. He keeps running until they’re just outside the door to the banquet hall, only then does he look down to see Felix biting his lip, eyes tearing up.  
  
“Felix, what the h- what did you say to him?”  
  
His brother seems reluctant to talk. Glenn knows he just needs to find the right thing to say and it will all come tumbling out.  
  
“If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to tell dad that you injured a-”  
  
“He was being mean! He wa- he was saying rude things about you.”  
  
Glenn tilts his head.  
  
“He said you looked girly. That you weren’t a proper man”  
  
Glenn isn’t surprised, such insults aren’t new (he wishes they’d find something more creative), but having someone stand up for him is. _Even if said person is four foot tall and constantly on the verge of crying._ He slides down the wall to sit in the gravel and pats the ground next to him for Felix to join.  
  
“Thanks. For kicking him. I know dad will be mad, but I appreciate it. Don’t make a habit out of it though, you can’t try to fight every person who says something like that about me.”  
  
Felix looks like he’s about to disagree before his shoulders relax, his head dipping to look at the ground.  
  
“I just don’t think it’s fair. Knights are supposed to be fair and good and honoura- hono- have honour. You shouldn’t let them say those things.”  
  
His eyes light up.  
  
“You could beat them in a duel! Then they’d have to stop!”  
  
Glenn doesn’t want to completely burst Felix’s bubble, to tell him that things don’t quite always work out like they do in the books he obsessively reads with Dimitri. It seems cruel. Glenn hopes Felix understands more when he’s older. _Though perhaps Glenn will leave explaining this topic to his father._ _  
__  
_ “I could do that. I know I’d win but it wouldn’t last long. I’d win the battle, not the war, mm? Look, I’ll… I’ll explain this more later, okay? Let’s get back inside before anyone thinks we’re missing. Dimitri might be free now.”  
  
Felix lights up at the idea of being able to spend time with the Prince and scampers to his feet, dragging Glenn back into the Banquet Hall.

\---

Glenn wakes late the next morning. It’s not a problem -- his duties don’t officially start for another week -- but it is out of character. He can’t remember all of what happened when they returned to the feast, but he can assume it involved too much wine.

He gets dressed slowly; he’s woken too late to have the training grounds to himself so he may as well take his time. Even without full armour the Falcon Knight uniform is needlessly complicated. Glenn had nearly complained about it but figured he’d already pushed his luck enough even asking to become one.  
  
Well, not that he actually _asked._ It had been more of a declaration.  
  
He takes his clothes from the closet but pauses before putting them on, his gaze drawn to his reflection in the mirror. He doesn’t make a habit of looking at himself -- perfect skin isn’t necessary for a soldier -- but there is a sense of relief that he can look at his reflection and not feel repulsed. He’s grateful for the magic that finally made his body his own, grateful to have a father who was not only accepting, but who _understood._ Glenn is sure his father knew long before Glenn himself had the words to express what he was feeling. Still, there are some things he wishes he could change. He grabs the razor from his pack and carefully removes a couple of day’s worth of stubble. He’d once tried to grow a moustache ( _or maybe it was a beard?_ ) but the results had been…  
  
Well, he wasn’t about to delude himself like his father. He wonders if Felix will fare better, if he’ll end up with a proper beard. He snorts at the idea before washing his face and finishes getting dressed.  
  
He’s glad he did finally decide to get ready for the day when the door swings open not a few minutes after. Felix walks in without knocking, as he is prone to do.  
  
“You have to stop doing that! Saints Felix, you’re not a baby anymore.”  
  
He’s about to continue when he spots Ingrid peering around the door, her long blonde hair falling out of a messy braid. If both of them are here it can only mean one thing; Dimitri is busy. Sylvain has returned to the North already, the Gautiers never stay long in Fhirdiad and so without their usual babysitter, the two of them have turned to him.  
  
“Dima’s busy again. Can we…”  
  
Felix trails off. Glenn tries not to sigh in frustration.  
  
“What Felix is trying to ask is…could we possibly spend the morning with you?”  
  
Ingrid bows slightly, as formal as ever.  
  
“Sure, why not?”  
  
He tries not to think about the fact he’s basically babysitting his betrothed as he leads them both to the Palace gardens. Felix seems content to stay quiet as Ingrid bombards Glenn with questions about being a knight, being able to fly, if he’d copied any famous manoeuvres from their favourite tales.  
  
It isn’t hard to find a quiet place in the gardens. They’re rarely busy, even less so the morning after a grand feast. Glenn sits them down between a small fountain and a flowerbed, telling them not to wander too far before lying back and closing his eyes. He’s avoided a hangover, but there’s a headache behind his eyes that threatens to ruin his afternoon. He wonders if the knights in the stables have told anyone about last night. His father hasn’t come to chastise him so he supposes it can’t be that bad. He’ll just have to keep his head down for a bit and make sure nobody has any reason to doubt his character.  
  
Something is casting a shadow over his face. Glenn cracks an eye open to see Felix standing over him, a slightly nervous look on his face.  
  
“Out with it, what’s wrong?”  
  
Felix takes a moment to respond, tapping a thumb into his palm as his head bobs slightly. _Almost as if he’s rehearsing something._ _  
__  
_ “I was wondering...about last night. The other knights said you weren’t a proper man because you can ride a pegasus but I don't understand why. You’ve always been my big brother-”  
  
_Not quite always,_ though Glenn doubts Felix can remember that.  
  
“-and you’re the best knight! Why would they say those things?”  
  
Glenn regrets for a moment just how sheltered from the cruelties and prejudice of the world Felix has been. No family is perfect but the fact that Felix even needs to ask this is amusing to him. He’s about to contemplate how to explain how rigid most people’s idea of gender is when Ingrid jumps in to save him.  
  
“It’s because they’re stupid.”  
  
Glenn appreciates the effort, even if the words themselves aren’t that useful. Then again, he’s not sure what else he expected from a nine year old who’s currently stood knee deep in a fountain. She does seem to have more to say though, her eyes gleaming with an intensity usually reserved for explaining why _The Maiden_ is just as brave as Loog.  
  
“Most people think only girls can be Pegasus Knights but they’re wrong. We have men in the battalions in Galatea but most people don’t know that because we’re um…”  
  
Glenn knows why, but he’s not about to remind Ingrid that her territory is somewhat lacking in prestige. People are cruel enough without him adding to it.  
  
“Anyway. People only think that because the stories all say that. There’s a whole book of legends about pegasi, and they all have girls in so people started to believe it.”  
  
Felix nods, his expression comically serious.  
  
“You showed me that book before. I liked the drawings.”  
  
“I don’t like them.”  
  
Ingrid manages to sound even more serious somehow.  
  
“They all look so...girly! With long hair and dresses and- They’re knights too! I wish they didn’t all look so pretty.”  
  
_Interesting._ Glenn has never heard Ingrid speak like this before, though it seems like something she’s thought about a lot.  
  
“I think I understand now. Thank you, Ingrid.”  
  
Felix flops down onto the grass; Ingrid goes back to whatever she was doing in the fountain. Glenn sits up. Ingrid may have explained the basics but she doesn’t know everything. Glenn has never spoken about this with her, or Felix for that matter. It isn’t some great secret, he just tries to avoid emotional conversations unless necessary. 

“I always wanted to be a Pegasus Knight.”  
  
Felix startles at his voice and shuffles around in the grass to face him.  
  
“The first time I saw one I knew that’s what I wanted to be. It was never an issue when I was young because-”  
  
He waves his hand.  
  
“Well, anyway. When I found out our ancestor, the first Fraldarius was a Falcon Knight it- _urgh-_ it almost felt like destiny. It felt like I was carrying on that legacy or something.”  
  
Glenn tears up a handful of grass.  
  
“Is that why Dad was so happy for you?”  
  
“Eh, maybe. He can’t really complain. I became a knight, didn’t I? Respecting the King, defending people, all that stuff. Plus he understands what it’s like to have people talk about you behind your back, y’know?”  
  
He flops back down onto the grass. Ingrid shouts that she’s found something in the fountain and Felix runs to look. Glenn takes the opportunity to finally get some more sleep.

\---

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, as does the next morning. Glenn rises early to train and is only slightly surprised to find he has an audience of three starry-eyed children. He tries not to think about how Dimitri managed to slip past the guards to get there.  
  
He spends the afternoon in the stables. He’s joined for a while by a couple of the Galatea knights, one of them a cousin of Ingrid from what he can remember. It’s pleasant enough and he’s glad neither of them is particularly chatty but he’s still eager to return to the sanctuary of his room for a couple of hours.  
  
The Goddess must be working against him though; he’s scarcely had time to sit down before there’s a knock at the door.  
  
“I’m busy. Unless it’s something important, come back later.”  
  
“"By the Goddess, did I raise a son with such poor manners? Perhaps we should have a lesson on etiquette for old times’ sake!”  
  
Glenn can hear the amusement in his father’s tone. He rolls his eyes, but makes no attempt to bar the door, instead slouching down further in his chair. His father looks tired; not obviously so, but Glenn can tell from his stance and the dark circles under his eyes that he’s probably been working all night. He knows his father is prepared to die for the Kingdom, but Glenn has always assumed it would be from a sword, not a mountain of paperwork. Perhaps Glenn underestimated the work of a Duke. _Something for Felix to worry about._ _  
__  
_ “You sent me to Fhirdiad.”  
  
Rodrigue glances around the room for a moment; Glenn suddenly feels self-conscious, the way he would when he’d leave his toys everywhere as a child. There’s nothing much to leave on the floor here, his personal effects few, but the feeling remains.  
  
“Ah, so I did.”

His father sits on the edge of the bed. Glenn can tell he’s trying not to slump.  
  
“I hope you do not regret that decision. It seemed the best course of action to further your training. And look at what you became! A member of the Royal Guard, the youngest ever,” he beams. “Glenn, _my son!_ You’ve done well.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
There’s an awkward silence. Glenn tries to think of a better reply but the words keep getting stuck in his throat. He doesn’t doubt that his father is proud, anyone can tell that he is but there’s a part of Glenn that still worries he’s putting on a brave face, too worried about disappointing his son.  
  
“Do you think I made the right choice?”  
  
Glenn blurts the words out against his better judgement. Rodrigue tilts his head, confused by the sudden outburst.  
  
“I could have become a Paladin, a Swordmaster, a _Holy Knight!_ And instead I- Am I a joke? Half the Kingdom seems to think so, the other half only thinks it’s okay because of my name and I-”  
  
He’s skirting around the real question, the idea of asking his father outright if he thinks him a disappointment too daunting. He’s said too much as it is, acting more like Felix than himself. He can’t afford to let his emotions run wild anymore, he has to be in control, has to maintain composure. Knights don’t crumble at the first sign of pressure.  
  
Glenn barely registers the hand on his shoulder at first; it’s as awkward as it is comforting.  
  
“You always wanted to be a Pegasus Knight. I don’t think I could have stopped you even if I’d wanted to, which I never have. You are a credit to both your house and the Kingdom; a knight at fifteen! While your manners may be rougher than I would have hoped, your actions prove you worthy of praise. I am proud of you, son.”  
  
Glenn sits frozen for a moment, overwhelmed by emotions he hasn’t let himself feel in a while. _Gratitude? Relief?_ He isn’t quite sure he has a name for it. The hand on his shoulder finally lifts; he finds himself almost sad at the loss of contact, yearning for the days where each small show of affection wasn’t tinged with awkwardness.  
  
But the moment is over, as much as he wishes it isn’t. His father must have come to see him for a reason other than indulging his small outburst. Glenn sighs and rolls his shoulders as he stands.  
  
“What did you want, anyway? I doubt you just came here to chat.”  
  
He tries not to notice the sparkle dim in his father’s eyes.  
  
“Ah, yes. Have you seen your brother anywhere? He needs to pack before we leave for Fraldarius tomorrow morning but he’s nowhere to be found.”  
  
Glenn shrugs as he thinks for a moment. He hasn’t seen his brother since the morning but he knows exactly how to find him.  
  
“No. I’ll go look, I’m sure you have other things to sort before you leave.”  
  
They both move towards the door, Rodrigue holding it open for his son with a weary smile.  
  
“Very well. Thank you, Glenn.”  
  
Glenn watches him turn the corner before beginning his own mission.

\---

It doesn’t take long to find Felix. He’s with the Prince, as Glenn had presumed and it only takes asking a maid to know where to find him. He’s bemused by their choice of the Library; the pair of them usually spend every spare moment in the Training Grounds, sparring every chance they get until Felix has to return to the North. _The training lances are safe from His Highness for now._ He smirks to himself as he walks between the dusty rows of books.  
  
“...but Sylvain said-”  
  
“Shh! Someone’s coming!”  
  
Glenn hears shuffling and then the unmistakable sound of books falling.  
  
“Felix! Are you hurt? I- I am truly sorry if I-”  
  
He rounds the corner to see Dimitri kneeling by Felix, who seems to have been hit by a book or two (or five).

“Glenn! I- Felix-”  
  
Felix looks fine, if a little dazed. Glenn kneels down by him, moving his hands to check Felix over for any injuries. Felix bats the hand away and tries to puff his chest out in a way that could be intimidating if he weren’t small and on the edge of bursting into tears. Glenn sees him glance over at Dimitri for a moment and can’t help a sly smile as Felix proclaims that he’s _fine_ and _it didn’t hurt at all._ _  
__  
_ “Glad to hear it. I _was_ going to make you go pack, but I guess we’ll have to clear up here first.”  
  
“Glenn, you do not have to help! Felix and I did this, we should be the ones to fix it.”  
  
Dimitri is always so formal, speaking like a man twice his age. He’ll make a good King, of that Glenn is sure, but he can’t help but wish the boy had been allowed more of a childhood. _Then again, had any of them had much of one?_ _  
__  
_ They begin putting the books back on the shelf, Dimitri and Felix passing them carefully to Glenn. They’re all heavy tomes, old and slightly dusty and not at all the kind of thing he’d expect the two of them to be reading. There’s no pictures for a start.  
  
“ _The Ancient Heroes Of Fódlan,_ huh _._ You two get bored of Kyphon and Loog already?”  
  
No answer. Glenn looks down to see his brother looking at Dimitri with an almost panicked expression; Dimitri is doing his best to seem composed.  
  
“We were looking for information… about your ancestor. The first Fraldarius. I remember Sylvain telling us that we know little about them. Fe- we thought that maybe we could find something in all these books.”  
  
Glenn isn’t surprised Felix had talked to the Prince about this; he’d be more surprised if his brother hadn’t. It feels intrusive in a way, as if they’d read his letters or gone through his wardrobe but it’s tempered by the knowledge that they both mean well. His Highness is nothing but sincere, caring in a way that Glenn prays will help, not hinder him as a ruler; Felix is Felix, dedicated to a fault even if he’s unsure how to best express it. They’re both young, they have time to learn.  
  
He sits down on the floor, leaning back against the bookshelf.  
  
“You hoped you’d be able to find what exactly?”  
  
“We thought that perhaps if we found something to prove that, or to say at least…”  
Dimitri is talking in circles. It’s a nervous habit, one Glenn has seen often. So desperate to please those around him, to not upset anyone accidentally that he takes forever to get to the point. Thankfully Felix is less patient.  
  
“Maybe if we found something that proved Fraldarius was a boy then people would stop being mean to you!”  
  
Felix blushes; Glenn tries not to snort as he watches Dimitri move his hand to hold Felix’s tight. It’s sweet of them, naïve of course, but well intentioned. Glenn is under no illusion that finding long forgotten evidence proving the gender of his ancestor would somehow stop people’s comments about him; there are prejudices that run far deeper than that. It is a nice thought though, one he lets himself dwell on for a passing moment before deciding to cut this research session short.  
  
“Thanks for trying, you didn’t have to do that. Don’t waste your time though. People will talk, whatever you manage to find, it’s not fixed so easily I’m afraid. ”  
  
He gives them a rare smile before ushering them out of the library. Felix looks downcast but Glenn knows he’ll be back to normal soon. He’s resilient. Dimitri on the other hand looks more determined than ever. It’s adorable, even Glenn can admit that.  
  
“Glenn I promise you, when I am King I will see that all people are treated equally. Everything will be fair and...um, equal.”  
  
Glenn’s sure his speeches will improve as he gets older. _At least, he hopes they do._  
  
“Thanks Your Highness, it means a lot. I’m sure you’ll make a great King someday, one I’ll be proud to serve.”  
  
They walk back to Felix’s room, the conversation drifting away from serious topics to more typical fare -- how far Dimitri can throw a dagger, how heavy the King’s cloak must be. It’s simple, a welcome change from court politics. Glenn treasures it.

\---

Glenn doesn’t sleep well that night. His dreams are full of poison, nightmares that seem so vivid he wakes over and over still expecting to be trapped within them. They come back in flashes as he lays staring at the ceiling, his hands clammy. _The King lying dead in front of the throne...the anger in his father’s eyes as he demands to know why Glenn didn’t do more to save him...Ingrid sobbing as-_ _  
__  
_ He can’t dwell on this longer. Dreams are only dreams after all. He drags himself out of bed, wishing he could run to the Training Grounds and rid himself of this nervous energy, but he has other plans this morning. Neither Felix or his father have come to wake him, which is surprising given the hour but Glenn knows they won’t leave without saying goodbye. Rodrigue may visit Fhirdiad regularly, but Felix does not and Glenn knows his brother will cry and whine all the way back to Fraldarius if they leave without seeing him one last time.  
  
It doesn’t take him long to pull on some clothes. There’s no need for his uniform, something he’s grateful for given how much of a pain it can be to put on; he doesn’t have the time to waste this morning. One simple shirt and a pair of trousers later and he’s off to the stables, ignoring all those that try to speak to him. He spies his father first; he’s speaking to one of his knights but quickly excuses himself, walking over with a smile.  
  
“You’re finally awake! I was surprised I didn’t have to drag you out of the Training Grounds. You had best get out of the habit of sleeping late, such behaviour is unbecoming of a knight!”  
  
Glenn considers telling his father just why he’d slept in late but the more he thinks about it, the more it seems silly. He doesn’t need to bother him with a few bad dreams, not so soon to them departing.  
  
“I know, I guess I’m still tired from the ball-” He raises his voice slightly in the hopes Felix will hear. “-or from my brother bothering me all hours of the day.”  
  
A messy head of dark blue hair sticks out from behind the carriage. Felix scowls at him before running over to him.  
  
“I’m joking, don’t look so angry, Fe. Your face might freeze like that one day!”  
  
The coachman calls over; they’ve finished their preparations. A sickly sinking feeling starts to descend upon Glenn, one he scarcely lets himself feel anymore. _He’d felt like this every time he’d left Fraldarius, once upon a time._ His father pulls him into a quick hug, as awkward as ever, but still full of care. Felix stands still, hands glued to his sides. His eyes are shiny with tears he’s desperately trying to hold back. Glenn kneels down and pulls him into a hug; Felix relaxes almost instantly, small hands clinging onto the back of Glenn’s shirt.  
  
“I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with you and Dima and train and-”

  
“You’ll just have to train back home, okay? Work hard so you can impress me next time. If you do I’ll let you ride Fáelán again, how does that sound?”  
  
Felix nods furiously, still clinging onto Glenn for a moment more before finally letting go. Glenn tries to ignore the slightly damp patch on his shirt.  
  
Rodrigue steps into the carriage, holding his hand out for Felix to climb in next to him. They both smile before closing the door. A shout from the coachman and they’re leaving, knights riding alongside all dressed in the same teal Glenn himself wears. He watches them for a moment, the carriage growing smaller and smaller before he’s seized with the need to see them one last time. He runs back into the stables all the way to the back. His training is more useful now than ever, Fáelán is ready to fly in no time at all. _He can still catch up to them if he’s quick._  
  
_Three, two, one_ , and he’s flying, racing to catch up with the group. A few of the knights at the back of the entourage notice him, one or two wave up at him. He’s sure he sees another shake their head. It’s all so impulsive; Glenn finds himself almost laughing as he swoops down by the carriage and then back into the clouds. He sees Felix pressed up against the window with wonder and awe on his face. He can only imagine his father’s sigh. Fáelán soars higher before he pulls back on the reins, finally letting the carriage fade into the distance. 

He turns back to Fhirdiad, sees the streets stretching out before him; a city he’d once felt trapped in now far beneath him. Soon he’ll return to training, to court gossip and endless expectations, but for now at least, he feels free.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Wow! We did it!  
> If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Please come say hi on twitter, I'm [@possiblevoid](https://twitter.com/possiblevoid)
> 
> A big thanks to the wonderful [Snail](https://twitter.com/snale_mail) for beta reading this. I promise to make you some upbeat modern AU content where there's no chance of Glenn dying.


End file.
